Merche Funebre
by TheNobodyofaSOLDIER
Summary: [Integra x Vampire!Reader]


( watch?v=vihoeV… Please listen as you read!)

The battlefield reeked of death: the odd stench of iron, as ripples of blood seeped into the dirt, the disgusting rank stench of the rotting flesh, the smoke invading your nostrils, tingling your tear ducts. Every muscle failed you and pinned you to the rough blades of grass. Bullets penetrated and violated your body down to your quivering bones. Your crimson life fluid pooled beneath you, staining your tattered uniform.

Somehow, you predicted your fate to end this way. After all, you belonged to the Hellsing Organization. You tied yourself, body and soul, to the whims of its leaders.

The center of this corporation, the nervous system, the one person that gave it life, approached you.

Sir Integra Fairbrooks Wingates Hellsing watched her men die that day, all in unimaginable ways; their limbs ripped from their bodies, as their blood spurted from the open gashed like fountains, their bodies sliced to ribbons, torn apart like a sheet of paper.

These weren't just soldiers, puppets she used for a greater purpose. No, these were her men. These were human beings that dedicated their life to a noble call, men with lives, families, loved ones, thoughts, feelings...

All slaughtered like pigs...

She halted before your figure, solemn blue eyes taking in every detail. Despite your becoming a being, conforming to the ways of the night, your strength was little to nonexistent to the vampire Alucard. Even still, you gave your all, every ounce of yourself to her heavenly mission.

Swallowing the hard lump forming in her throat, she knelt beside you, every part of her trembling with rage.

"[Name]," she whispered. "What have they done to you?"

"M-master-!" salted blood bubbled in your mouth, causing you to cough. Utter so much as one word sent nothing but pain through you.

"Hush, soldier," she said, pulling you up by your rest, cradling you delicately, as if you'd shatter into a million pieces.

"Please, Master," you continued, gripping her palm with urgency. "Please, kill me. I-" you gulped down, throat stinging along the way. "I'm too torn apart. It pains me," your breath caught as you choked back an aching sob. "I can't be healed."  
Her expression, though hard, indicating sorrow, lids brimming with tears. She knew you were correct. You were lucky with what remains were left behind, but even that could not be salvaged. She ghosted a hand over your chest, resting it right where your ribs caged your undead heart.

Cold skin, no pulse, only survived on the blood of humans, yet you gave yourself to her.

Such devotion was worthy of admiration...

Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, Integra lay your head gently against the top of her leg. She then slowly, almost hesitantly, pulled her pistol from her coat, pressing the rim into your tender flesh. Still grasping her hand, you smiled and nodded, sparkling tears streaking down your filthy face.

Even with everything you suffered through, you still possessed such purity.

Squeezing her eyes together, she muttered in a firm voice,

"Deliver, Lord, the soul of Thy servant from all danger of Hell."

With a deep exhale, you closed your eyes, content to die at the hand of your Master.

"And from all pain and tribulation."

With one subtle movement of her fingertip, she pulled the trigger.

"Amen."

The morning was clouded with the muted light of the hidden sun. Each of the sky's veil, tainted with a somber gray, hinted at the storm to come. A frozen breeze pricked the skin of the remaining soldiers, standing silently over the graves of their lost comrades. Integra, dressed in an ebony gown, hat and covering, concealed the sorrow twisting within her. As the head of this organization, it was her responsibility to see her subordinates received a proper burial and farewell.

Even the solitary nightwalkers...

She gazed at the cross chiseled into your gravestone. True, she still believed in her mission, her purpose in the world of ridding the filth and evil contaminating its surfaces, but these guiltlessulives deserved to be spared.

You deserved to be spared.  
With a shuddering sigh, she lowered herself graceful to the front of the headstone, leaving behind a small white blossom, a symbol of your virtue, your sweet innocence, so brutally taken from you.

After one more moment of perfect stillness, she saluted you, your sacrifice and the sacrifices made by these brave men. The survivors followed her actions with as much fervor.

Closing her eyes, she whispered a quiet prayer for you, that your soul, despite belong to a vampire, would be granted the mercy of resting in peace.

You at least deserved that much...


End file.
